Tactician Fantastico!
by Ryzaria
Summary: a mysterios man joins the black fagn and gets feelings for limstela. r&r (Spelling Mistakes intentional) Chapter 2-The Tactician astounds everyone, while we see the return of a certain Myrmidon...R&R!
1. The Perfect Beginning

Tactician Fantastico!

Summary: a mysterios man joins the black fagn and gets feelings for limstela. r&r (Spelling Mistakes intentional) Err...would this be Yaoi? Limstella is technically androgynous.

Hehe, welcome to the other extreme of the Gary Stu piss-takes I'm doing. The first one was doing one that was just human. This one's about a godlike Gary Stu. And of course, there's badly written Romance, a load of Tactician Fantastico being perfect, and of course, mad Pent! HE BURNINATES J00 ALL!!!

Pent-True, dat. (sets people on fire)

Well, this'll be fun.

**Chapter 1-The Perfect Beginning**

The fortress loomed ominously, as Tactician Fantastico glided noiselessly through the mist, being so perfect that his feet didn't touch the ground. The mist parted slightly, being so much in AWE of his perfection that it didn't want to soak his perfectly shined boots. 

No one knew much about his past, but seeing as he was so perfect, they suspected his parents were dead due to bandit attacks, he'd spent years perfecting his swordplay for revenge, and dealt it, which gave him his brooding (but perfect) personality. In actual fact, his swordplay didn't need perfecting. Nor did any of his weapons or magic skills. They were all so...perfect!

As were his chiselled features. All the women loved him, because of his perfect build, and perfect teeth, perfect hair, and other...perfect bits (losing heterosexuality as we speak here – Author's Note). His perfect clothes swished dramatically in the wind, and he started whistling a tune, although I don't need to say it, perfectly. Eventually, he tired of whistling and started singing. Perfectly.

"Cold was my soul   
Untold was the pain  
I faced when you left me  
A rose in the rain..."

The birds flew out of the trees, feeling offended that such a perfect voice would intrude in their woods.

"So I swore to the razor  
That never, enchained  
Would your dark nails of faith   
Be pushed through my veins again!"

On a nearby battlefield, two warring tribes, who would have previously wiped each other out over a wrongly placed matchstick (ironically, that WAS what they were arguing over), were now holding onto each other for support, crying at the beautiful voice that sung this song.

"Bared on your tomb   
I'm a prayer for your loneliness  
And would you ever soon   
Come above onto me?  
For once upon a time  
On the binds of your loneliness  
I could always find the slot for your sacred key!"

As he finished, it seemed as though everything sighed, and was in a state of calm. He moved on, towards the Black Fang Tactician Auditions.

- - -

Nergal looked down at the paper. "Alrighty, who's next, Brendan?"

Brendan looked. "Err...a Mr. Hardrid von Richtenstein, from Etruria."

Hardrid burst into the room, and even Nergal screeched like a girl.

Hardrid's pale features clung to his body as though it was life or death, and his teeth were remarkably pointy. His black cloak sweeped around him dramatically, knocking over some of the more expensive vases.

"Err...you need the next room, Sesame Street auditions...for the Count, right?"

As Hardrid left, he said "No...Big Bird. Duh..."

"God damn, he was scary..." Nergal said.

"I need to change my pants..." Brendan muttered.


	2. Far from perfect

OMG, it's time for the first...

**REVIEW RESPONSES!!!**

(implodes)

Lady Lyndis-I are teh funney.

Dracobolt-OMG!!! I have my own fangirl! T3h w00t. Thankies for the review!

Stewie's Minion-Rawr?

Koriku-It's always nice to be appreciated.

**Chapter 2-Far from perfect**

It was a wonderful dream...

_The man spun the blade in the air, catching it easily. Rebecca looked on in awe and wonder, with sheer admiration in there as well. As the blade spun up in the air, the sun gleamed off the blade beautifully. _

"_My word...how did you get such a big sword?" she asked._

"_It's naturally big," the man replied, smirking._

"_Ca-can I touch it?" Rebecca asked another question. The man didn't mind the questions. Not at-_

GOD DAMMIT, JAAAAAAAAAIL!!! BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT!!! And corny jokes.

Can you guess who it is, yet?

Kyle woke with a start, screaming "JAILBAIT!!!" at the top of his lungs, frightening some of the birds away. _God dammit, Kyle...get a grip on yourself. I mean, she's not even legal yet..._

He pushed himself up wearily, and looked around at his surroundings. It was still misty, and still cold. Still dreadful. The person who'd named it The Dread Isle was probably freezing to death. The mountains were looming ominously in the distance, greyish silhouettes against the err...grey-er-ish sky, with the sun poking through only slightly, the rest of the sun being swallowed up by the fog.

At this point, he heard footsteps, and his hands swept towards his belt, where the least magical sword in the world, Kyle's Iron sword, was. Once the most powerful sword ever, a freak lightning strike had drained it of its supernatural power, leaving it with about as much magic strength as Renault. (Burrrrn! – Author's Note)

However, he relaxed when it was discovered that it was just Canas returning with Rebecca and a load of bad news. "No sign of the group," Canas said with an over-dramatic sigh. Kyle nodded-it was the answer he was expecting.

"Well, we'll have to find our own way off the island..." the words rolled off his tongue as though it was as easy to complete as cycling a bike with stabilizers, where, in actual fact, it was more like cycling a bike with stabilizers over a tightrope with sharp spikes at the bottom. "Let's go..."

So they did.

- - -

"So, who's next Brendan?" Nergal asked.

Brendan looked down at the paperwork in front of him. "Err...a Mr. T. Fantastico..." _His parents never gave him a chance, did they?_

However, at that point, a burst of light filled the room (perfectly), and when it subsided, Tactician Fantastico stood there, in a perfectly dramatic pose. Brendan held up a card with the score "10" on it. Nergal held one up with "11".

Tactician Fantastico spoke, in his perfectly refined voice, "Hello...I hear you have an opening for a tactician...." The two leaders nodded, dumbstruck. "Well then, I shall apply. My name is Tactician Fantastico, now when do I start?"

Before Nergal could stop himself, he said "Why, straight away! How about an instant promotion to one of the Five Fangs?"

Brendan leaned over and whispered "Sir, there's only FOUR members of the FOUR Fangs."

"Bah, we'll just change it. Welcome aboard, Mr. Tacty...Mr. Tactyr...do you have a simpler name?"

The man nodded, his hair waving up and down perfectly. "Yes. Jeff."

The two men exchanged a glance, then returned to the new tactician. "Jeff it is. Now, you need a nickname, a colour followed by an animal...we've only got one of each left...you may not like it though..."

- - -

"Hey, did you hear?"

"What!?"

"There's a new Black Fang member. His nickname's the Pink Weasel!"

"We'll be killed in our sleep!"

"RUN FOR OUR LIVES!!! WOMEN AND OLD MEN FIRST!!!"

And so the two old men ran again.


End file.
